


Trust

by notenoughtogivebread



Series: Klaine Advent 2013 [16]
Category: Glee
Genre: Injury Recovery, M/M, Season/Series 03, pain meds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughtogivebread/pseuds/notenoughtogivebread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Klaine Advent 2013. Kurt needs to be with Blaine after the attack in Michael.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

Kurt found it hard to concentrate in class for days after that frightening night in the emergency room. He supposed it was some form of PTSD. All he knew was that all day, whether eating his breakfast yogurt, walking with Mercedes to class, or sitting in calculus, he kept reliving those moments just after the posing and posturing in the dark parking garage turned into— something else.

Mostly he kept hearing it. He loved Blaine’s voice, the comforting timbre of it, the careful phrasing—Blaine’s whole personality was captured in his voice. But that sound—that awful scream that just went on and on—that was Blaine too.  
In those long days trapped inside McKinley he just wanted to be there—whether Lima Community or Blaine’s darkened house. Because when he was there, he could see and hear and touch and know that Blaine was okay, that in reality he had stopped screaming days ago. So when the bell rang at the end of the day, Kurt didn’t bother staying for Glee, instead rushing out, texting madly as he hurried to his car.

The first two days, Mrs. Anderson met him at the door and led him to the darkened den, where Blaine’s piano and his parents’ vintage LP collection were both housed. And there was his boy, a bright smile on his face, the red from the mild chemical burn fading from the cheek below the eye patch. He was a little loopy, but mostly he was bored out of his mind.

Kurt couldn’t imagine how Blaine would have survived his days without music. He couldn’t read, couldn’t watch TV, couldn’t use his laptop. So when Kurt arrived he was not surprised that Blaine was itching to introduce him to that day’s obsessions. The first day it was Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin and Tony Bennett, which led to some awesome duets with Blaine sitting at the piano. On Tuesday, it was Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Blaine was sprawled out on the rug when he came into the room, and he pulled Kurt down to join him. And he was chatty, so chatty.

Kurt found himself giggly over how very good it was to hear his boyfriend’s voice, even slurred. “Mama, Mama! Can Kurt stay for dinner? I know; we could have a picnic in my room! Or right here? Right here’s good, too.”

Maria Anderson hesitated in the doorway, her eyes bright, her small hands fussing at her sleeve ends, her collar. She met Kurt’s eyes over Blaine’s curly head, her expression thoughtful. Kurt tried to meet her gaze calmly, but he just couldn’t read her thoughts. Instead, he focused on Blaine, laughing and rolling about on the carpet.

“Now, Blaine, you should try to take it easy. You make me worried with this silly. And if you get too excited, maybe Kurt will just have to go home…” Maria started to say.

Blaine was indignant and, apparently, about 10 years old under the sway of the pain meds. “Kurt doesn’t have to do what you say, Mama. He’s not a kid; he’s a man, he’s all grown up. He’s a man… And me too. I’m a man too. I’m a man among men. Right, Kurt?” He was desperately grabbing at Kurt now, his one honey-colored eye huge in his head.

Kurt was for a second frozen in embarrassment, both for himself and for Blaine’s mom. Then he regained his poise. “Oh, Blaine, right now I think that Percocet has you more Tigger than man. Mama’s right; we need to do something calmer.”

Blaine’s emotions turned on a dime, and now he was contrite, unsure. He stilled and patted the spot next to him on the floor. “But I can be your man? I want to be a man for you, so much, Kurt.” He was looking down now, and Kurt’s heart just swelled.

“My God, Blaine. You’re not just a man for me. You’re—you’re like a superhero, swooping through the night to save me. You saved me.” He moved closer, scooting next to Blaine to press a kiss into his boyfriend’s curls. “I’m so PROUD and happy just to know you. Sweetie…”

Mrs. Anderson had gone quiet at the door, and Kurt heard her slip away as he pulled Blaine close. He arranged them then so that Blaine’s curly head rested in Kurt’s lap as Coltrane played on Mr. Anderson’s old turntable. He remained there even after the record ended, slowly slipping into sleep. Kurt tried to rouse him, but Blaine just tightened his hold on Kurt’s legs. “Could you read to me?”

And so he read aloud from his latest Variety until the other boy’s breathing evened out, as the shadows grew longer, until Maria tiptoed back in with a blanket and a pillow. She helped him transfer Blaine’s head to the pillow, then hovered as Kurt tucked the blanket around him.

“Sure he wouldn’t be better off in his bed?” he asked.

“Oh, he’s just worn out now. He tries so to be awake when you get out of school. He always thinks he has a bit more Go in him than he does, I’m afraid,” Maria whispered as she guided him down the hallway to the kitchen. “Bill and I will get him up to bed when he comes home.”

She poured Kurt a glass of lemonade—“Your throat must be dry after all that reading”—and gestured for him to join her at the tall counter.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Kurt. I’ve already missed so much time at work, and—well, I’m going to need to take some time just after his surgery—so…” She slid a key across the counter to Kurt.

“I’m going to have to go in tomorrow. And Bill has to squeeze in a trip to his Chicago office before—before the surgery. So I’m afraid he’s going to be alone all day. My friend Gloria will bring him lunch and make sure he has his pain meds, but—and this weekend too.” She stopped abruptly; it was clear she was anxious, but there was a determined set to her mouth, so like Blaine’s. “I’ll just feel better if you have the key.”

He closed his fist around the key and felt like he had been handed something much bigger. “Sure, sure. I’ll take care of him. You can rely on that.”

She patted his hand and then jumped up, her usual brisk nature reasserting itself. It wasn’t quite like his Dad pulling Blaine into a hug when the teen went for a handshake–or maybe it was. Whatever it was, Kurt felt himself relaxing for the first time in maybe forever, and let Maria fuss on about med schedules and contact info.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit AU, in that Maria Anderson is NOT Pammy Anderson. She is based on Lea Salonga, and is a professional and a bit of a worrier.


End file.
